


Scarlet

by raspberrymadeline



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Belly Rubs, Crying, Feedee Dan, Feeder Phil, Feeding Kink, Feedism, I'm sorry Dan and Phil, Internalized Kink Shaming?, Kink Discovery, M/M, Phil is upset he's into this, Stuffing, Weight Gain, a bit of personal introspection on my part I suppose, also I feel like perhaps more phanfiction should be tagged with that, feederism, there is no actual sex though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 20:52:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12756000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberrymadeline/pseuds/raspberrymadeline
Summary: Phil Lester had a secret. A secret that had always been a secret and would continue to be a secret for all time because it was a dirty, bizarre, disgusting secret.Phil liked to watch his boyfriend eat.





	Scarlet

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit angsty, a bit kinky, there is crying and comforting and eating in some sort of order and there is a lot of blushing. (Also my first time using ao3 and my first phanfiction, so hey).  
> I didn't really intend for this to be erotica, per se, so if you're here for that I wouldn't have high expectations. (Though it could be erotic. To the right person, mind you.) Let's see how it goes anyway.

Phil Lester had a secret.

A secret that had always been a secret and would continue to be a secret for all time because it was a dirty, bizarre, disgusting secret.

Phil liked to watch his boyfriend eat. And Phil’s boyfriend happened to be Dan Howell and Dan was sat across from him, on the other couch, and both of them were eating pasta, nothing special, just penne and something out of a jar with some basil on top (because leaves are pretty much vegetables, right?) And Phil was watching Dan. Hopefully not too conspicuously, but it was happening all the same.

Dan had been eating a lot more recently, and certainly not as healthy as he had used to. And Phil supposed part of the horrible, disgusting secret was that rather than trying to help with improving Dan’s eating habits, he remained a decidedly unhelpful bystander in the situation. In fact, Phil was probably exacerbating the issue when he made stupid, gross decisions like the one he had made about half an hour ago when he cooked up quite a lot more penne than he perhaps needed to.

Phil, finished himself, watched the last forkful of pasta be pushed between Dan’s lips and glanced away as he heard the click of the utensil hitting the bottom of the ceramic bowl. A shy glance revealed the five seconds of contemplation before Dan heaved himself up. Phil quickly glanced away again. He knew Dan was getting seconds because if he were finished he would have left his bowl on the coffee table to be cleared away in a few hours time. Phil mentally kicked himself for relishing in this fact, followed by a discrete physical pinching once Dan walked back into the room and plonked himself back down again.

Pretending to be intensely focussed on the television was easy for him. Phil had had a handful of nights like this in the time he and Dan had been together. Nights when those gross feelings he had always tried not to have found a way to be felt. He squirmed in his seat once he heard a second, terminal clink. Looking up to see Dan’s expression of surprise at the empty bowl—and was that disappointment flickering across his features?—forced Phil to look away once more.

For a while he and Dan sat and watched whatever was on television, Phil without taking most of it in. Dan piped up at some point about something he’d seen on Twitter and Phil humoured him while desperately trying not to think about the way Dan pulled at his never-really-been-all-that-roomy T-shirt.

You’re absolutely gross, Phil told himself, biting his lip. He had had a handful of nights like this. They always ended with him leaving the room, for the best really, and this night was no exception. Phil needed to abort the situation. Fast. He abruptly stood, intending to move towards his room, opening his mouth to fabricate an excuse, when Dan spoke. “Argh, I’m so full,” he said, “My tummy hurts. You should rub it better.”

Every single atom in Phil’s body began to vibrate just a tiny bit faster. Or at least, it _felt_ as though the bonds between his particles suddenly gained the propensity to weaken, turning his body into a state of matter that was decidedly un-solid. A liquid. Even a gas—that would be ideal. Then he could just float away, into the atmosphere. He would never have to turn around and Dan would never have to see his face flushed spaghetti sauce, fire truck, candy-cane red.

But the atoms in his body stayed intact, and he was forced to do just that. Opening and closing his mouth several times while he considered what to say next, Phil finally opted to say, and quite intelligently so, “Er.”

Dan, slouched on the couch in a position his spine was probably unpleased with, let out a quiet groan and lifted up his shirt to rub his stomach himself. Phil stared. He couldn’t help but stare. It was obvious he had put on weight. Or at least, more than Phil had noticed himself: enough for his belly to bulge, pressing against the waistband of his pants. But that wasn’t even what Phil was shocked about. Not in the slightest—it was that Dan looked so pleased with himself. Phil could never have imagined such a situation and yet here he was, embarrassed, so very embarrassed, because Dan must have figured it out: he knew exactly how Phil felt about this.

“How did you…?” Phil clamped his mouth firmly shut, his feet twitching with the urge to bolt.

Dan was confident in his response, and intimidating in his confidence. “How did I what? How did I know? That you liked this?”

“Ahum,” Phil managed, wondering if his degree in English Language and Linguistics had been even more of a waste of time than he had originally thought.

“Don’t worry Phil,” Dan said, the corners of his mouth twitching “You don’t exactly give off feeder vibes. I’m sure none of our mutual friends are secretly fretting you’re going to try and stuff them.”

Phil was impossibly red now, fidgeting—part of him wanting to run and part of him wanting to stay and see where this conversation would go. “I don’t _want_ to stuff them! Why would I do… why would I want to… with just anyone,” he stuttered, “It’s just… you.”

Dan raised his eyebrows. “Just me?”

Phil’s stomach fluttered with apprehension. “Yeah. You’re just… well you’re my boyfriend for one. And you’re… already… soft. And you like food a lot. The noises you make…”

Dan raised his eyebrows, but he was grinning. “Noises?”

“The ones when you like something. Sometimes, I… well. That’s… never mind. But. That’s just… yeah.” Phil concluded, hooking his fingers into his pockets awkwardly. Staring downwards. Trying to seem composed.

“No, wait, sometimes you what?” Dan’s grin was wider. Phil had never felt so intimidated by him before. He felt exposed, naked: Dan had access to his only shame, his deepest, darkest secret. He bit his lip, looking up at Dan’s amused gaze, and simply shook his head.

Dan’s expression softened. “Hey. Don’t be embarrassed. If I was disgusted by you I wouldn’t have asked.”

Phil looked at him, sprawled across the couch. He was just Dan. He wasn’t a threat. And Phil knew why he wanted to know. “Sometimes I re watch baking videos,” he blurted out, not looking at Dan, “just to hear the… the exaggerated appreciative noises you make when you eat.”

When he glanced up, Dan was staring up at him, eyes half lidded and a small smile on his face. “Mhm?” he hummed, biting his lip, “Yeah?”

Phil suddenly felt more confident in seeing this reaction. “I…” he said, “I like that you like food. I like that it makes you happy and I always hated when gaining weight made you sad. I just wanted to feed you and feed you and… have you be soft. And happy. With yourself. And with eating.”

Seemingly surprised at the emotive turn in the conversation, Dan sat up slightly. “I mean…” he frowned, “I guess I wasn’t inherently unhappy with gaining weight in of itself. I hated it because of the way I thought it would make others view me, and I guess part of me just hated that I secretly liked the way it felt. Society’s a bitch.” He shrugged, sliding back down in the sofa crease and seemingly abandoning the topic of conversation, “But I mean. You want to feed, I want to be fed. Fuck society, we can have the perfect arrangement.”

“I wouldn’t say… that. I wouldn’t say that, I want to feed,” Phil tried, still clinging onto the idea that maybe he could make out that it wasn’t what it looked like, “I’m just a bit. Um. Fixated on your belly. Not that, I mean, it’s just—”

“Gotten bigger recently?” Dan asked, raising his hands to rest behind his head, his shirt riding up to reveal a small slither of the body part in question. He was smirking. It was such a bizarre situation, Phil could not lie to himself—it was weird. But he also could not deny his own arousal.

Phil’s face, which had begun to cool down, started heating once more. “Er—”

“I _had_ noticed, Phil,” Dan said amusedly, “why do you think I’ve been wearing only sweatpants for a week?” Now Dan’s face began to heat up—from embarrassment or arousal or both, Phil could not tell. “My jeans, I mean, they do button still. I just, ah, have to unbutton them when I sit down.”

“Oh.” Phil was ridiculously turned on at this point. Ridiculously. The whole situation was ridiculous. Shifting from his left foot to his right, Phil inhaled shakily, “Um, so…”

“So you should get over here, you dork.”

Phil did. A little more hastily than perhaps the average person would have. Flopping down onto the couch, he immediately buried his face in Dan’s shoulder—there was no need for Dan to see his facial expression or how red he was. Nope.

“You all right there?” Dan asked, amused. Phil nodded, and so Dan grabbed his hand and placed it on his abdomen.

Phil nuzzled deeper into the crook of Dan’s shoulder as if it would make the embarrassment go away. He pushed up Dan’s shirt and began to gently rub his bloated tummy, feeling Dan relax into his touch. They sat there for some time, the noise of the TV creating a pleasant buzz in the background. Dan exhaled, adjusting the elastic waistline on his sweatpants and letting out a small moan. “God, I definitely ate too much.”

“You can only hold yourself accountable. You’re the one that was so greedy,” Phil chided. In the split second of silence that followed he cursed himself—yes, Dan wanted… this, whatever this was, but that didn’t mean it extended to the want to be shamed for it. Phil bit his lip and felt his palms become sweaty.

But the silence didn’t last for more than a couple of seconds and soon Dan moaned again, louder this time. “It tasted so good though. It was definitely worth it.”

Phil’s heart began to flutter erratically. A question was pressing against the back of his firmly shut lips, a question he couldn’t quite decide how to ask. Finally, it was too much to continue speculating inside his head and it had to come out, however awkwardly. “How… how big? Do you want. Um. I mean—”

“How big do I want to get?” Dan rephrased slowly, moving his hand up to stroke Phil’s hair. The arousal was clear in his voice as he bounced the question back at Phil, “I don’t know, how big do you want me to get?”

Phil tensed up, not sure how to respond. He had never ever thought he would ever encounter a conversation concerning this subject matter. He was certain this preference of his would remain hidden till the end of his days—it was something that he supposed had developed unexpectedly in childhood that had escalated into a fetish sometime in his early teens. But he had never considered acting on his fantasies—he had always been so very disgusted with himself, and so very afraid of ever hurting someone as a result of his inclinations. And as he had always been certain Dan did not share in his desires… well. He didn’t intend to leave Dan anytime soon. He was pretty sure Dan was the love of his life. And so he had accepted that none of his fantasies would ever become realities. He was at peace with that.

Swallowing, he considered the question Dan had posed. Phil was nervous and fearful and not entirely comfortable with himself, still. And he was very aware of the fact that sex was only a very small part of he and Dan’s lives. They had careers that needed to play a huge role in considerations on where to go from here.

Finally, he spoke. “Not… too big. I mean, I love you and I’d love you at whatever size you were. But… I love _you_ more than I love your belly or hips or thighs. I’d never want to put your health or your life at risk. And… well, there’s YouTube. Fans will notice, and as terrible as it sounds… and as much as it doesn’t compute for me personally… I wouldn’t want your weight to diminish the success you’ve already had in your career.”

Dan was silent. For a long time, and Phil lay there, heart beating so very fast he almost wanted to leap up from the couch and run into his room to hide. But instead he continued to lie, petrified and frozen in place. When Dan finally spoke, Phil almost jumped straight out of his lap, startled.

“I love you. I love you so much, what the fuck.” Dan’s voice cracked. Phil lifted his head from the crook of Dan’s neck to see his face. He had bit his lip, silent with the effort of not crying, his eyes glassy but his smile evident. “Um,” he said after what seemed like several minutes of quiet and attempted composure, “I just—I can’t—Thank you. For… for being literally the best person in the world. I’m not sure how I even managed to get someone like you, but—”

He fell silent again, squeezing his eyes shut. His whole chest warm, Phil sat up slightly and pressed his lips gently to Dan’s. The other let out a shuddery sigh as they parted, nuzzling his face into Phil’s. Phil felt warm, so very warm, as he whispered “I love you, I love you,” and peppered Dan’s flushed cheeks with kisses. Phil was pretty sure he understood the emotion behind Dan’s reaction: the latter had put himself in an acutely vulnerable position, and Phil had, without hesitation, refused to exploit it.

After several minutes of nuzzling and enjoying each other’s warmth and obvious love, Dan blinked his coffee eyes at Phil and asked, “But we can still do some stuff, right?”

Phil blinked back, the fluttery feeling in his chest returning, the warmth cocooning them suddenly stifling. But not entirely in a bad way, Phil concluded, shyly moving his hand downwards to squeeze one soft love handle. Dan’s reaction was instantaneous, lurching his whole body closer to Phil and letting out a small mewl. Phil could feel Dan’s heart beating, faster and more frantically. He moved his thumb in slow circles, caressing the swell of Dan’s hip and finally moving lower to his pudgy belly. Phil could feel Dan’s warm, uneven breath on his neck, and he pressed his tummy further into Phil’s touch. There was something shy about this, something new: as if they were teenagers under a blanket, entertaining wandering and bashful hands.

Dan lifted his head from Phil’s shoulder, face flushed pink. Rosewater, strawberry milkshake, coconut ice pink. “Do you want to… feed me something?” he asked, warm and coquettish.

Phil felt such a feeling of searing arousal shoot through him that he could almost have mistaken it for nausea. He wasn’t sure how he ever found his voice again, but once he did, it was unsteady, “Um, sure, I mean… yes… what—what do you want?”

“Hm,” Dan hummed, pressing his face just under Phil’s jaw in an almost involuntary display of affection. He reminded Phil of a purring cat. “Something sweet, I suppose.”

“Okay,” Phil said, hesitating for a moment before moving to stand up. Behind him, he could hear Dan let out a tiny whine at his loss, but Phil was already powering towards the kitchen, a blush rapidly rising to his face.

He felt hot all over as he stood at a loss in front of the pantry, not really comprehending the situation. Phil was awkward. He had become less awkward over the years, much less awkward, but he was still confounded sometimes in social situations he rarely encountered. He was fairly certain this qualified as one of those. Too nervous to feel aroused at this point, he tried to take deep breaths and think about Dan, sitting on the couch, about his request for something sweet. Finally he selected an unopened packet of chocolate biscuits and, before he could change his mind and run to his room, made his way back to the lounge.

It was the most awkward thing Phil thought he had ever experienced, sitting back on the couch and conspicuously ripping open the packet. He had clumsy fingers. Dan had the courtesy to bury his face in Phil’s shoulder. It was a give and take situation.

The room was so so warm, too warm, too warm for Phil’s hands, which began to sweat, and too warm for the chocolate biscuit, which began to soften slightly between his fingers. But despite everything: the heat, the incredible discomfort he felt, Phil held his sugary offering out to Dan.

Luckily, Dan didn’t seem to feel the same kind of discomfort Phil did. Having lifted his head from Phil’s shoulder, he took a bite from the biscuit. Phil watched him, watched his fully dilated pupils and the crumbs that settled on his lips and the deliberate way he leant in for a second bite, and a third. Once the biscuit was gone he grasped Phil’s wrist gently. For a split second Phil wondered what he was doing, before Dan lifted Phil’s hand to his mouth. A pink tongue appeared, sweeping away the crumbs at his lips and finally coming to lap at the whirls of chocolate melted on the tips of Phil’s index finger and thumb. Dan pulled away and Phil, helpless, aroused and flushed, came to the conclusion this was probably going to be the most erotic experience of his life.

As Dan bit into the second biscuit, Phil wondered how many of these they were going to get through. They had already eaten a large meal—and Dan had already confessed that he was very full. And yet he ate without restraint, eyes fluttering shut, beginning to let out the little whimpering noises he sometimes made when he particularly liked something. Not the exaggerated ones he made during baking videos, but small, involuntary ones he made without even realizing. Even before Dan was finished licking Phil’s fingers again, Phil was reaching for a third biscuit with his other hand. He wanted Dan to continue making the noises, wanted to continue to see him enjoying himself so much.

As they worked through the packet, Dan began to let out louder noises, uninhibited moans of pleasure as well as little grunts whenever he had to shift positions on the couch. As Phil offered biscuit after biscuit, he couldn’t help but feel they were walking a line between eroticism and chastity. Sure, he was turned on by Dan and his response to food—but he was also contented by the platonic act of taking care of him, of being the provider.

Finally, Phil reached and found there was only one biscuit remaining. Dan was lying back now; seemingly almost breathless as he indicated Phil should hold it out to him. What with the way he looked—half-lidded eyes, crumb dusted shirt riding up slightly over his chub—Phil could not find it in himself to withhold the last of the biscuits for more than a second. He promptly proffered it to Dan. Within seconds it was gone, Phil’s fingers were being licked clean, and Dan was asking, somewhat incredulously, “Was that the last one?”

“Yeah.” Phil said. His mind felt almost hazy as he looked over his boyfriend. Everything was still too warm but he was more at peace with it. “You sound so surprised that you were that greedy.”

Dan let out an actual groan of discomfort as he attempted to shift on his side, towards Phil, and promptly fell back again, panting. “Mm, you should definitely rub my tummy now.”

Phil didn’t hesitate to oblige, pushing up Dan’s shirt the rest of the way to expose his swollen tummy. He started where his stomach was obviously distended, gently caressing the area and eliciting small sounds of relief from Dan. “I’m so full,” he whined, leaning into Phil’s touch. Phil knew he was bright red yet again. Responses flooded his mind: _I know, you’re stuffed. Hm, yes, I wonder why you’ve gotten so plump recently. You’ve completely gorged yourself._

Phil did not actually say any of these things. He just blushed harder, moving his hand to squish Dan’s side, continuing to rub his stomach gently with his thumb. Dan let out a hiccup and grew very pink, looking up at Phil bashfully. Phil couldn’t help leaning forward to kiss him, one hand sneaking around Dan’s waist to bring them closer together and the other wandering to his lower belly. Dan whined into the chocolate-y kiss as Phil rubbed and squeezed and gathered up the pudge in his hand, Dan wriggling and trying to get closer but for how full he was. As Phil pressed at Dan’s belly, he wondered how much had gone into producing it’s excess. Wondered how many times Dan had overfed himself, how often he had stuffed himself ready to burst with the items Phil had admittedly noticed, but did not remember adding to their Tesco order. Wondered how many times he had not managed to stop himself from moaning at how yummy they were. Wondered how he must have felt the moment he found he could no longer lower himself into his sofa crease without unbuttoning those too-small jeans.

For the first time that night, Phil let out a moan. Only a small one as he briefly pulled away from Dan’s mouth—but the significance was not lost on either of them—Dan smirking, his eyes heavy-lidded, and Phil reddening considerably.

“So, you’re definitely into it,” Dan said. He was right, of course. Phil was pretty sure the only reason he wasn’t properly hard yet was because all the blood in his body was currently occupied with the task of making him appear the colour of a stop sign. Finding he was struggling to say it out loud, however, Phil simply leant forward to kiss Dan once more.

As Dan abused Phil’s lower lip with sucking and nibbling and breached his mouth with his tongue, Phil began to feel, even as he grew more aroused, more nauseous. Even as he was wondering what sort of _A Clockwork Orange_ sorcery was going on he was pulling away, nervous and flustered and honestly feeling like he might vomit right there and then.

Dan, misunderstanding, tried to lean in once more only to find Phil jerk violently away, biting his lip. There was silence, silence but for the heavy breaths both of them had to take just to facilitate enough oxygen. Phil found the situation to be akin to drowning, drowning in the silence and expectancy that made him stutter.

“I’m, I’m sorry—I’m sorry… I… I don’t… I don’t know.”

More silence. Phil felt Dan’s hand at his waist slacken and he took a sharp breath at the sensation.

“I don’t know, um, why. I did that. Sorry.”

Dan’s hand retracted from Phil’s waist entirely and Phil almost wanted to sob for how overwhelming the situation was, until he felt Dan’s hand again, this time on his face. Flinching, he turned to look at his boyfriend. Instead of disappointment or upset he saw only confusion and a want for understanding in his expression.

Phil didn’t believe, he couldn’t believe, that Dan truly wanted this. The words from years and years of telling himself, of trying to convince himself, that no one could ever do this consensually were now vibrating in his ears. Had he coerced Dan into this? Had some dark subconscious driven him, placed subtle encouragements for Dan, even without he himself realizing? He imagined someone’s reaction to the situation at hand—if he made this into the subject for a video, what would the comments consist of? He imagined it in his mind, scrolling down. This is disgusting. This can’t be consensual. What a toxic relationship. This is slow suicide. You’re a sadistic fuck if you’re into this.

Phil didn’t even realize he was crying until Dan was wiping the tears from his face and wrapping his other arm back around Phil. “Um,” he sobbed, still trying to fabricate a semblance of being in control, “I just um. I don’t w-want. Yeah I’m, I’m into it, but—but I d-don’t want to be.”

“Hey,” Dan said, “Hey hey hey hey hey. Shh. Come on, why’s that?”

Phil took several deep, gasping breaths. Oh, he was a mess now. He wished he had managed to make it back to his room after dinner. None of this would have happened. What if his mum could see he and Dan right now, or his father or his brother or Dan’s parents or the pizza deliveryman or his subscribers? What would they all say? To see him, completely enamoured with, completely turned on by, and completely consenting to his significant other causing damage to his own body?

“Ahum. I um. I’m dis-disgusting. How—why would a-anyone… why would h-hurting you. Um. W-why would I be into… that.”

“Phil,” Dan said firmly, cupping Phil’s face with one hand and stroking gently with his thumb, “I am completely consenting to this. Honestly. Even if you weren’t into it, I would do it on my own. You’re not disgusting, and regardless, you never chose this and you can take no responsibility for it. But it doesn’t have to be a terrible thing. Like I said before, we can have the perfect arrangement, and if we behave like mature adults it doesn’t need to get out of hand or dangerous. Okay?”

For the longest time they lay there, heads resting on the back of the couch, blinking in tandem and listening to Phil’s broken breathing pattern fix itself. Finally, Dan spoke once more. “I trust you to never, ever hurt me. That’s why I’m letting you be this person for me. That’s why you’re every person for me.”

Phil pressed his face into Dan’s shoulder. The throbbing in his chest was beginning to slow, and at the words warmth spread across his heart and lungs. It wasn’t as if he had been suddenly convinced of Dan’s consent, or his own innocence in engaging with this side of himself, or that this could be a safe, consensual thing he and Dan could do. In fact, he was now more nervous than ever, knowing Dan had so much trust in him where he had so little faith in himself. But the warmth was a sign, a sign that maybe one day he could believe these things he did not yet believe. And at that moment, it was enough.

 

 -

 

Phil and Dan lay there for a long while and kissed lethargically and in time put on a movie they only half watched while Phil eventually worked up the courage to give Dan some more tummy rubs. When he wasn’t looking Phil watched Dan’s eyes fluttering closed, and when Phil wasn’t looking Dan watched the formers inhibitions loosen like the muscles in his shoulders as he finally began to relax against the couch cushions. And finally, sleepy and slow, Phil helped Dan off the couch and into their bed and then removed his contact lenses and looked in the bathroom mirror and realized he felt a little bit better about himself, somehow.

And when Phil slipped into bed next to Dan, who was plump and drowsy and in his underwear and gazing up at Phil with eyes full of ridiculous, nonsensical, irrational trust, he couldn’t even find words to describe the feeling of his quickening heartbeat and the slow spread of heat across his cheeks.

When Dan kissed Phil goodnight he knew his face was scarlet. King-of-hearts, strawberry jam, Valentines Day scarlet.

**Author's Note:**

> [Also should this be rated M?? Not sure, just thought I'd play it safe.]


End file.
